


Wine-Colored Lights

by bulletincookie



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Magic Jaskier, Partying, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, brief mention of sensory overload
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29720625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bulletincookie/pseuds/bulletincookie
Summary: Geralt hated parties. Really, he hated anything that required social gatherings of more than a few people. Especially if he didn’t know those people. But Jaskier knew these people, and Jaskier gave him those puppy eyes that he didn’t want to admit he was absolutely weak for, so here he was.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 65





	Wine-Colored Lights

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! This is my second piece written for the Geraskier Reverse Bang, I was paired with the lovely Cas [@cassandrasartworld on tumblr](https://cassandrasartworld.tumblr.com) who drew the wonderful piece in this fic and I was immediately drawn to it!! I try not to form stories before I get my assignment, but I was hoping so much that I'd get this piece because the story just jumped out at me and I did!!!!

Geralt hated parties. Really, he hated anything that required social gatherings of more than a few people. Especially if he didn’t know those people. But Jaskier knew these people, and Jaskier gave him those puppy eyes that he didn’t want to admit he was absolutely weak for, so here he was.

He tried to drown his higher senses in alcohol, but the wine didn’t stand a chance against his metabolism and he briefly thought about going back to the inn to grab a bottle of white gull from his potions pack just to try to dull his senses. Even the smallest bit would help, the expensive wine was too flowery and had no cheap taste covered by more alcohol.

But then Jaskier slid up to his side, and a lithe arm slipped around his shoulders. Carefree, loose, unbothered by the noise and smells and how many people there were. Geralt was a bit jealous.

“You alright?” Jaskier asked softly, leaning in close so Geralt could focus on his voice above the din of the crowd. Geralt only hummed in response and took another sip of the far too expensive and not nearly alcoholic enough wine. Judging by his expression, the bard didn’t believe him one bit.

“Want to get some air? There’s a beautiful garden in the back,” Jaskier suggested with a squeeze to Geralt’s elbow. “Heard it’s so big you can get lost in it.”

Geralt managed a nod. His tongue felt tied in knots, though that had been more common recently around Jaskier. The bard somehow knew everything about him that made him tick, knew every twitch in his expression and what it meant. As much as the idea of being so _known_ irritated him, so transparent and laid bare for someone to know everything about him, it was a blessing right now. Jaskier seemed to know exactly what he needed. What he needed was to get out of here, to maybe go somewhere that not even small animals scurried about, but that wasn’t possible here surely, so the next best thing was to step outside for some air.

So he set the delicate little drinking glass on a ledge and let himself be tugged through one of the side doors, the scent of flowers and the cool breeze already starting to wipe off the feeling of needing to crawl out of his skin. He sighed in relief, but Jaskier continued tugging him along. They went through winding rows and walls of flowers, carefully constructed in what seemingly was a random maze, but Jaskier trudged forward confidently.

They passed by benches with small pillows on them, and Jaskier snatched one as he was going along, then grabbed a second one from another bench later one. The confidence that he grabbed the pillows, the way he traversed the maze as if it was nothing—

“You know this place,” Geralt noted after a moment.

“Nope!” Jaskier replied with far too cheery of a voice. “Only going as far forward as I can.”

Yet somehow, despite Jaskier claiming he had no idea where they were going, they ended up at a dead end of the maze. A tree was at the end, and the grass under their feet felt softer.

“Here we are,” Jaskier declared with a nod. “This is the spot.”

The cool air, quiet, and admittedly the grounding feeling of Jaskier’s hand in his own was already making him feel more like himself again. The feeling of a barrier protecting them on three sides felt much better than the crowded bodies filling the hall, where an attack could come from anywhere. The tree provided overhead cover as well, Geralt noticed. No chance for an archer. “I thought you didn’t know this place.”

“I don’t, but sometimes you just know when you’ve arrived to where you need to be! And this is definitely the spot to relax and take a breather in,” Jaskier replied as he let go of Geralt’s hand. He dropped one of the pillows he grabbed and sat down on it before setting the second pillow down next to himself. He patted it and it took Geralt a moment to realize that Jaskier meant for him to sit down next to him. He stiffly walked over and plopped down on the pillow, and that slim arm wound around his shoulders again. He instantly relaxed again, the tension melting from his muscles.

“Better?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt nodded and hummed. Jaskier pulled him closer, and Geralt let himself relax and lean against him. They were safe. There was very little chance of anyone coming upon them here. It was still very new into their…something. It wasn’t quite a relationship, they both knew they wanted it to be one, but they were still trying to work out exactly _how_ to act around one another. For all of his grand gestures and flowery words, Jaskier loved very softly. It was in small touches, tunes hummed under his breath while he braided Geralt’s hair, well wishes on a hunt despite knowing it was something Geralt could handle in his sleep, a gentle arm around his shoulders to keep him grounded.

Geralt was as silent in love as he was for everything else he did. He hoped Jaskier could tell. Despite the words that got caught in his throat, the electric sparks that shuddered through his chest at any touch, he did enjoy Jaskier’s company. To say he was fully in love with him may have been a stretch for now, but perhaps someday he could say such a thing. He wondered if Jaskier knew. He tried to sit up straighter, to get a glance at Jaskier’s face for any sign of a hint that Jaskier knew how he felt, but fingers threaded in long white locks and held him securely against a shoulder that was broader than the cut of fancy clothes suggested.

“I can hear you thinking,” Jaskier whispered. “You’re thinking you don’t deserve this, aren’t you?”

“No.” He wasn’t, really. Not yet. Though that line of thinking he was heading down was sure to end up there, as most lines of thinking did.

“Mm.” Lithe fingers ran through his hair, and Geralt melted against Jaskier like a cat. “Want to talk about it?”

They both knew full well that Geralt never talked about what was on his mind. Not when it was something that was troubling him. Though this didn’t trouble him, not really. He simply couldn’t find the words.

“You know, there’s an old trick I always did when I had troubles relaxing,” Jaskier continued, as if the silence didn’t stretch between them like a chasm just a moment ago.

“Counting sheep?”

The quiet laugh that Jaskier gave filled him with a warmth that chased away any chill that might have started to slip into his skin from the cool breeze.

“No, not counting sheep. It’s— well, they’re little lights. I like to watch them.”

Before Geralt could ask what exactly Jaskier meant by that, soft purple filled his vision. He blinked a couple of times as the tiny purple lights flickered and danced in the air, bobbing and weaving around their heads. He sat up and reached out to touch one, and a refreshing warmth washed over him. It felt like basking in the sun and letting the warmth seep into his bones, and his mind unfolded and embraced it entirely.

Back in himself however, he simply fell back against Jaskier and leaned most of his weight on him. Jaskier laughed beside him and scooted to sit in front of the witcher, leaning back against his chest.

“Do you like them?” Jaskier asked. He brought a hand up to flick one, sending it spiraling lazily through the air.

Geralt’s tongue worked to find words. He was speechless, with so many questions. “How long have you been able to do that?”

“Hm?” Jaskier popped another small ball of purple light into the air, letting it float lazily around them. “Not sure, exactly. It’s something I’ve been able to do a while. Ever since I can remember, really.”

“Was one of your parents magic?”

“Not that I know of. Never asked.”

“What else can you do?”

“Nothing important. Can’t heal wounds or cure the sick, or else your hunts would have been much less stressful for me.”

“Hm.” Geralt’s mouth quirked a bit at that. Jaskier did always have a way of finding even the smallest things to fret over after a hunt. Even if it was a small nick where a branch grazed him. He traced his thumb over the jut of Jaskier’s hip. “It’s nice.”

“I think so too.” Jaskier reached up and took one in hand. The light bobbed, just barely contained in the space of his cupped palm. It looked so natural for it to be there, Geralt wondered why he hadn’t learned this about Jaskier yet. The soft, magical light cast on Jaskier’s features made him look even more ethereal.

[(art source)](https://cassandrasartworld.tumblr.com/post/644212574565597184/my-entry-for-the-geraskierreversebang-i-had)

He swallowed to try to regain some part of his thoughts. “You never mentioned it before.”

"Yes well, I didn't think it important. It's not nearly as grand as your witchery magic,” Jaskier explained. “I can’t light something on fire, or tell someone what to do.”

“You can make calming lights.” Geralt reached up and flicked at one, able to brace himself for the sudden shock of warmth and softness that came. When Jaskier turned his head to nuzzle at Geralt’s neck, it was like a piece of the puzzle slid into place. “They’re connected to your emotions.”

“Pardon?”

“Your magic. It’s filtered through your emotions.”

“Mm. I suppose that makes sense. Can’t do it if I’m not in the mood to,” Jaskier mused. “I never told my parents. Never told anyone else, really. It was something I did only for myself, in quiet moments when I needed to relax or calm down.”

He flicked the light he was holding away, and snuggled back against Geralt’s chest. “When you’re nobility, there’s— not much that’s actually yours for the sake of being yours. Clothes, trinkets, skills, they’re all to improve your image and make yourself look better. More powerful. Worthy of being the one in charge. I’ve known that ever since I could understand words. I didn’t want this to be something that was just used for— power, or money. It was mine, and only mine, and nobody could take it if I didn’t tell them about it.”

Geralt poked at one again, with the new information in mind. Now it felt like a familiar warmth, like coming back to the inn and seeing Jaskier performing for a crowd, in his natural environment and beaming with joy. Like getting wounded on a hunt, and knowing as long as it wasn’t fatal then Jaskier would take care of him.

It felt like Jaskier’s love.

“I’m the first person you’ve shown this to,” Geralt noted. Even when Jaskier was hiding what he was truly trying to say under layers of flowery metaphors and rambling anecdotes, Geralt learned to parse the meaning buried inside.

Jaskier was silent, and he finally heaved a great sigh and turned around to face Geralt. His expression was so vulnerable, so unguarded, that for a moment Geralt felt like the one stripped bare and laid out for all to see. “Yes, you are,” he admitted. “I’ve never— trusted anyone enough to tell them.”

Geralt’s mouth felt dry. He brought a hand up to cup Jaskier’s jaw, his thumb stroking over his cheek. He had a sudden thought of _I want to kiss him_ , which certainly wasn’t the first time he’s had such thoughts, but it was the first time that he realized _he could do that_. Jaskier seemed to come to the same realization that Geralt did, and met him halfway. Their lips brushed in a hesitant, chaste kiss. One that either could pull away if the situation had been read wrong. But it wasn’t, and Geralt pulled Jaskier back with him as Jaskier pressed him against the tree, and the dig of bark into Geralt’s neck grounded him just enough to keep him from getting lost in the sea of Jaskier’s love. The purple lit up around him even from behind his eyelids, glowing brighter as their lips met for kiss after kiss.

“Remember how I said I don’t know this place?” Jaskier whispered, just an inch away from his lips before diving back in to kiss him again.

“Lie?” was all Geralt could get out before Jaskier was kissing him again, his face cupped in the musician’s slender hands.

“Mmh. No.” Another kiss. “My— intuition is magic.” Jaskier finally pulled away further, though Geralt tried to chase him for one more kiss, just one more. Jaskier laughed and leaned back further. “Patience. I can’t talk and kiss you at the same time.”

“Then talk later,” Geralt grumbled, but he settled back against the tree again.

“Like I was saying,” Jaskier continued, as if unaware of the grumpy witcher, “I can sometimes feel when things are right. I guess that’s where my magic comes in too. I follow where my feet and heart want to go, and I usually end up in the right place. This tree for example.” He smiled and poked Geralt’s nose. “It took me to you.”

“So it did. And it better take you back to me,” Geralt grouched, and Jaskier laughed and leaned in to press another kiss to his lips.

“So demanding. We need to return to the party at some point, you realize.” Yet despite his words, he leaned in and kissed Geralt again, deeper. He teased a nip to Geralt’s lip, unable to hide his smile and muffled laugh. Geralt wanted to push him to the ground, play wrestle with him like he had so many times with his fellow witchers, hear him laugh and call him a brute. Maybe even let him think he would win once or twice.

“I can hear you thinking,” Jaskier interrupted his thoughts. “Don’t you dare. We’re already going to be the talk of the court, disappearing from this party for so long and coming back together. My family’s reputation would never recover if I came back dirty and debauched as well.”

“You hate your family’s reputation.”

“Yes, but there’s many more fun ways to ruin a family’s reputation than just having some scandalous sex with one’s bodyguard in the host’s hedge labyrinth.” Jaskier grinned and stood up to smooth out his clothes. Geralt finally realized at that moment that the lights had all flickered out and disappeared. He stood as well and gathered the cushions. He gave a cursory brush down of the underside of them, to try to get most of the loose dirt and grass off, but didn’t pay it too much attention.

“Now, how do we get out of here,” Jaskier mused out loud, tapping his lips.

That made Geralt pause. “You weren’t keeping track of where we were going?”

“I told you, I go where my heart and feet lead me! Why weren’t _you_ keeping track?”

“I thought you knew where you were going.”

“I told you I didn’t!”

“You say a lot of things that aren’t true.”

“Why you—!” Jaskier lunged for Geralt. So much for not looking debauched when he returned to the party, then. Jaskier grabbed for one of the cushions and Geralt let him take it. The alternative of fighting Jaskier for it might have ripped the cushion. Though it seemed like letting Jaskier have the cushion didn’t help save it at all, as it slammed into Geralt’s face only a moment later. Geralt reeled back, a manic grin slowly spreading across his face as he held tight onto the other cushion.

“Oh no— don’t you—!” Jaskier turned tail and ran. Geralt chased after him, wielding the pillow tight. He waited until Jaskier started to slow from exhaustion, and he threw the cushion with all of his might and even added a burst of Aard to slam the cushion into Jaskier’s shoulder. The bard yelped and staggered as the cushion exploded into feathers from the impact. The two of them paused, staring at the mess of feathers starting to float down to the ground with the scraps of the cushion plopping down unceremoniously.

Jaskier was the first to break the pause with a snort that quickly turned into a burst of laughter, doubling over. He gave Geralt’s a weak, half-hearted whack with the cushion, but he was laughing too hard to put any force behind it. He sank against Geralt, soft snorts from his hiccuping laughter making him shake. His bright laughter was infectious, and Geralt found himself smiling and chuckling a bit with him.

“We are going to get in _so_ much trouble,” Jaskier whispered, as if there were people around.

“Only if they find out,” Geralt pointed out. He nudged Jaskier away and stooped to start to gather up the feathers.

“Oh! Hiding the evidence! Very smart,” Jaskier agreed. He bent over to pick up the feathers as well, stuffing them into his pockets.

“Don’t care about the evidence,” Geralt muttered. “But these are good feathers.”

“I see the witcher is not above petty thievery,” Jaskier mused. He stroked a finger over a feather. “Duck down. Makes sense, I suppose. The lord of the manor enjoys hunting quite a bit.”

“How do you know this?”

“Well he was out quite often. And you know when the husband is away, the lady of the house gets bored and seeks companionship in other places.”

“How are you at this party?” Geralt asked. Jaskier was anything but subtle, there was no way the lord didn’t know.

“She loved my singing and playing. She came to the commonfolk taverns, just because she heard I was playing there.” Jaskier tossed a wink at him. “What were you thinking? You dirty dog.”

Geralt gave him a push and went back to picking up the delicate feathers. “You know what your history is like.”

“Mm, I suppose,” Jaskier agreed. “But now I’m yours. Your own little canary to sing and make love to you whenever you want.”

That made Geralt pause and stiffen. “I— don’t want to cage you.”

“Oh I never said the cage door was closed, dearest,” Jaskier reassured him. “I’m well aware it is wide open, as is the window, door, and any other opening to the outside that this metaphor needs. But I willingly stay in the cage because it is safe, warm, I get fed well, and my singing is well appreciated.” He pressed another light kiss to Geralt’s cheek. “Come, back to the party.”

Geralt stared at the remains of the cushion on the ground. He carefully folded it up and stuck it in his pocket. It would sell for a couple of coins later, which could mean extra food for them. He had noticed Jaskier was getting a bit leaner.

They finally started the walk back to the manor, leaving the cushion on a random bench on the way back.

“Want to see me cause a _real_ scandal?” Jaskier asked with a conspiratorial grin as they slipped back into the main room. Geralt knew that was never a good question with Jaskier, and it would most likely end with them being chased off of the grounds by the guards, but the twinkle in Jaskier’s eye made him nod anyways.

It was much more tame than Geralt was expecting. All Jaskier did was take one of the fancy silver platters full of tiny delicate glasses of wine from one of the servants stepping around the room to refresh any of the other guests. He handed it to Geralt to hold for him while he knocked back tiny glass after tiny glass.

Maybe Geralt was wrong about the strength of the wine. Jaskier was starting to get tipsy by the end of that platter. Then the bard strode up to a servant and exchanged the empty platter for a _second_ platter of tiny glasses of wine to drink those as well.

They were already getting stares from Jaskier so selfishly taking so many of the glasses of wine that were supposed to be for all of the guests, making the servants scurry back to the kitchens to refill them as quickly as possible. But then as Jaskier drank through the second platter of wine glasses, he started to talk louder and gesture more wildly.

Just as he was finishing up the second one, Geralt spied the lord of the manor making his way towards them. To politely reprimand them without ruining his own immaculate image of graciousness and kindness, surely. He only knew Jaskier saw him coming too by the ever so brief flicker of his eye, without even a pause in his storytelling.

“And I’m telling you Geralt, I fought that cockatrice with my bare hands. And it was so much bigger than the ones you fought— it was _this_ big!” As he was exclaiming, Jaskier threw his arms out. The platter was knocked out of Geralt’s hands by Jaskier’s free hand, while the hand that still held the partially filled glass of wine launched the last dregs of the expensive wine right onto the Lord’s equally expensive outfit.

The shattering of glass and the tinny sound of silver hitting the ground made everyone instantly go silent, even the band. Jaskier froze mid-gesture, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Erm, sorry?” he said. Geralt knew him well enough to know he wasn’t sorry in the slightest.

“Julian, I have heard your family is a rude, uncultured poor facade of nobility, but this is a new low,” the lord hissed. The nearest people around them gasped, as if it was the worst insult they had ever heard. Geralt snorted.

“Well perhaps you would know the nobility of the Lettenhove name a bit better if you took better care of your wife,” Jaskier fired back without batting an eye, even fluttering his fingers in a telltale gesture. “We’ve always been better at managing other’s houses.”

Geralt was almost worried for the lord, he looked like he was about to explode from how red his face was getting and the way he shook with rage.

“ _Out!_ ” the lord shouted. “Never show your face here again, Julian Pankratz!”

“Happily!” Jaskier chirped. “Come on Geralt, oh do be mindful of the shattered glass darling. Wonder who caused such a mess at a lovely party like this, he must be such a brute to be so destructive.” He took Geralt’s hand and led him towards the main doors, grinning all the while.

It took until they got an inn room— there was no chance of staying in the manor for the night now— before Geralt and Jaskier collapsed into laughter.

“Did you— did you see his _face_?!” Jaskier snickered. “Gods I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head!”

Geralt even laughed a bit. “You’re going to get disowned by your family one of these days.”

“Oh no, no,” Jaskier assured him. “I’ll receive a strongly worded letter I’m sure, but they’d never disown me. Not for breaking ties with him, Cassowin is the one that’s dependent on us for silks and he’s always tried to cheat us out of more and more for less. They might even thank me for it after they’re done officially reprimanding me. Have to get the formalities out of the way of course.”

“And the others at the party?” Geralt asked.

“None of them will remember. Either by alcohol, snuff, or not caring enough to remember. Cassowin doesn’t exactly make many friends, after all.” Jaskier grinned and started the tedious process of undoing all of the hooks and bows that kept his outfit together. “Did you have fun?”

“I’ll never understand nobility,” Geralt simply replied with a shake of his head.

“You understand me.”

“I don’t.” Geralt stepped over to help him with a hook that he always knew was difficult for Jaskier to undo, it always got stuck and Jaskier always swore to—

“Ugh, thank you. I swear, I’ll go to the tailor first thing in the morning, whip me if I don’t,” Jaskier huffed as he got the rest of his fancy outfit off.

“You can just ask to be whipped like a normal person,” Geralt fired back. Jaskier pouted at him and started to get Geralt’s clothes undone for him. The delicate ties were always too difficult for Geralt to get on his own.

“Your memory must be going, if you think I enjoy any pain,” Jaskier huffed.

“I know you don’t.” Geralt took the closeness as an opportunity to press a gentle kiss to the crown of Jaskier’s head. Something in his chest melted, and he hid a small smile out of Jaskier’s vision. “Thank you.”

“Any time, darling,” Jaskier whispered as he slipped off Geralt’s doublet. He tilted his head back and they shared another kiss, tasting of expensive wine. That warmth returned to Geralt once more, and he slipped his arms around Jaskier and embraced it fully.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment and kudos if you liked it, and please show your love and support to the artist [here!](https://cassandrasartworld.tumblr.com/post/644212574565597184/my-entry-for-the-geraskierreversebang-i-had)


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